Haunted By A Memory

Just For A While

A short while later Vincent heard the muffled sound of the TV having been turned on again. 'Seems like we can co habitat just fine.' The young man thought to himself as he continued about his day. He had no reason to fear another presence here. The unseen company was a welcomed difference into his reclusive lifestyle.

Everything seemed to be fine, until Vincent heard a soft thump of something coming into contact with the counter top. He turned about from putting away the final cleaned dish from dinner. There on the counter was a piece of paper. Although it wasn't a piece of paper he recognize made within the past two or three decades. It held the appearance of parchment. No lines upon it for modern note taking. The color faded yellow from years of existence and one side with jagged edging from being torn out of some source. It held but a one word message for him in big lettering for emphasis. Vince lifted up the paper to read it and analyze it front to back. Nothing more was written or indicated where the page might have been torn from.

He looked about the kitchen trying to get a feel for who might be with him at the moment. His dark eyebrows furrowed together in disappointment. He had thought an understanding had been reached. Apparently not. "If I hadn't bought this place the land was going to be sold to a developing company. That means the house would have been demolished. Hard to say if something else would be built instead for you to linger in. More likely the grounds would be scavenged for minerals then left bare and desolate. I get the feeling you like it here. So do I. So, if I stay, the house stays. And if the house stays, you can stay. Sound like a reasonable situation, do you agree?" Vincent ask the air about him as his eyes scanned about the kitchen while holding the piece of paper. He set the piece of paper back down on the counter and stepped away from it. Unsure how long he intended to wait if the presence would respond Vincent filled the time by getting himself a glass of water to sip on slowly.

. . .

Listening, the male almost refused to believe what Vincent noted about the demolition of sacred property. But he understood the thin lines between government and private ownership; unfortunately, Vincent's words rang true. Teeth gritting, he danced to the attic to fetch his pen, wiggling the utensil between his index and thumb. Of course, he could talk to the human, but he didn't think an introduction necessary at the moment. Not while he quietly seethed over the ideas of losing their house or sharing the space with some stranger. What if we're to drift into the unknown once the house is destroyed? Nikolai knew the house could not stand forever, as some living force might likely ruin their dynasty once and for all.

Flitting over to the page, he scribbled his answer for Vincent; a pen appeared to float in the air as he manipulated the item to his bidding.
No. We have lived contently on our own while people like you have continually shredded the originality of our home and memories. If the house is ravaged, perhaps we'll finally reach our salvation and pass on. If you stay, I'll make certain you hate living here. The living and the dead have no need to coincide as 'friends'....we simply wish for our peace of mind.

Carefully sliding his pen next to the sheet as to inform Vincent he had finished writing, Nikolai drummed his fingers on the isle's smooth surface in irritation and impatience. If Vincent hoped for a living Hell, he could easily ensure such a possibility on this Earth. Through the Bible studies he had eavesdropped on over the years, he suspected he might survive in Hell if the afterlife were true...his sins as a spirit were unforgivable. But Niko figured he might as well enjoy himself while he could, through toying and tormenting humans.

. . .

Out of all the eerie occurrences that had occurred in the past two days, seeing the pen floating in mid air and scratching seemingly furiously against the paper kind of spooked Vincent the most. Once the pen ceased its movement the white blonde man approached it once more. His crystal blue eyes gazing over the message that had been written.

Something about the message didn't settle right with Vince. It wasn't the threatening part of the presence ensuring his discomfort that bothered him. The part about living contently while the living shredded the original home and its memories. That didn't sound like living in contentment.

"You are most peculiar. You fear not the idea of the home being demolished so you can perhaps pass on and reach salvation. And yet your attempts of driving out me and others before me indicate you desire to stay indefinitely as it's only tenant. Surely, being here alone becomes mundane. Unless....." his eyes re scanned the note and a gleam of realization came over his face.

"You wrote 'we', not ' I '. Which means there is more than one of you. Do you wish everyone alive to leave because you still have the urge of protecting another who also resides here with you from when you were both alive? Protection is not always physical. It can be mental or emotional as well. A living tenant in this place would serve as a bitter reminder that you are no longer able to give the protection you once did, while you were alive." Vincent spoke somberly. His voice was sincere and gentle at stating this newfound realization.

He chose not to speak outloud the other question he had or the other realization that followed. How many presences resided here? And if his statement about why the one presence didn't want anyone alive residing with them was correct, perhaps they unseen residences of this place had perished here unexpectedly. Leaving them soul bound to the place they most associated with in life. A place that this one wanted to keep free of all reminders that they had perished in the first place.

"I'm sorry my existence here is not welcomed. But I am here to stay. Perhaps it's time to make new memories. Rather than desire frivolously for the original memories from long ago that cannot be anymore." Vincent concluded and he departed from the kitchen. He went downstairs and casually glanced around the room. "If you think regular tv is entertaining, there is something even better that doesn't have commercial breaks." He spoke and used the game system controller to navigate to a streaming service to watch an episode of a tv show of his choosing.

After that he turned everything off and secured the home before departing to the loft bedroom to go to sleep. He changed and settled into his sleeping bag. Upon closing his eyes he spoke outloud, "Perhaps we can communicate more. I wouldn't mind hearing more about this charming place as you remember it, or hear more about you. Just an idea, up to you. Goodnight."